


The sacred simplicity of you at my side

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Love at First Headbutt, M/M, Old Married Couple, Post-Canon, Storytelling, Surprises, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: “Mm, yes love? Is everything okay?”Zolf looks up, and there’s such a curious look on his face - a mixture of hope and apprehension that strikes Oscar as so unlike his husband that he almost wants to reconsider this whole affair. Then, Zolf grins, and his eyes are suddenly alive with sparkling good humour.“How did you keep this quiet, you arse?”
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 37
Kudos: 90





	The sacred simplicity of you at my side

**Author's Note:**

> I had a sudden flash of inspiration last night that Harrison Campbell would ADORE Zolf and Oscar's love story. Than you to Jo for talking it through with me <3
> 
> Happy New Year everyone! Here's to another year of this wonderful fandom <3

His husband has been grumbling for the past half hour, staring at Oscar getting ready and fussing with the fanciness of the clothing Oscar picked out. Zolf doesn’t do well with all of this, and even worse with not knowing _why_ he’s all trussed up. Surprises are next to impossible, when paired with Zolf’s pouty little face and Oscar’s absolute inability to keep things from him after everything they've been through.

Oscar hums to himself as he hears Zolf sigh for the third time in the past minute, moving the kohl stick under his eye with a final flourish. He gives himself a once over, turning to and fro in front of the mirror. Yes. Very good. He looks _delicious_ tonight, if he does say so himself, and wanders out into their bedroom with a confident swing in his hips.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re gonna be late?”

It’s the first thing that Zolf says, their coats already gripped tight in his hand as if he can make Oscar hurry up through sheer force of will ( _as if that’s worked in all the years they’ve been together, but Oscar admires his commitment_ ). Oscar grins when he notes the way Zolf’s eyes roam all over him once the customary complaint is out of his mouth, doing a little twirl just to see Zolf’s lips twist with stifled amusement.

“Oh, you don’t even know where we’re going, Zolf! How could you even suggest such a thing?”

“Because I _know_ you, Oscar.” He says, getting to his feet. “We’ve never been on time to an event in our life.”

“We were on time for our wedding.”

“Mm.” Zolf says, holding up his coat, all ready for him to slip into. “I don’t think that counts, love.”

It still tickles him, to hear Zolf use pet names so casually, sends a tingling sort of warmth over his skin. He puts his arms into the coat and shrugs it on, watching as Zolf does the same. They’re remarkably well matched like this, and he lets Zolf take his hand and draw them towards the front of the house, enjoying the simplicity of this being their life now. Nothing is waiting outside the door to kill them, there’s nothing ahead of them except for a very nice night that will end up with them cuddled up in bed, safe.

He’s beaming by the time he gets to the carriage door, holding out a hand to help Zolf climb inside. Zolf shoots him a curious look, but doesn’t say anything about his expression, which is probably for the best. He’s been sitting on this secret for quite a while. It would be a shame to spoil it now.

The carriage makes good progress tonight, the streets relatively clear as they move towards the Strand. Which is all for the good, because Zolf’s right leg is bouncing up and down with nervous energy so loudly that it’s likely audible by their driver. Oscar smiles, smoothing a palm over Zolf’s knee.

“We’re almost there love.”

“I hate surprises.”

Oscar grins. “You do _not_. You just hate not knowing what’s going on at any given moment. For once in your life, you can be patient and trust me.”

The carriage pulls up and Oscar steps out into a crowd of people pushing into one of the buildings. He smiles to a few who stop and stare (he’s not exactly been inconspicuous before in his life, but the bright white hair does rather make him stand out now) and then does his very best to ignore them, because this night isn’t about him and he’s not about to make it so.

Zolf looks a little discomforted when he steps out too. Neither of them are really very well versed with crowds anymore. There’s too much that can be hiding in a sea of anonymous faces. Oscar guides him over to the side of the pavement where there’s a little room to breathe, putting on an act of people watching while Zolf catches his breath.

“Okay love?” He asks, after a time.

Zolf nods, reaching up to set a hand against the base of his spine. “Let’s go see this surprise then.” He says, as if he’s already decided he’s not going to like it.

Gods, he married a stubborn ass of a man.

They wander over to the door, and if Zolf’s hand slips a little lower as they walk, Oscar isn’t about to do anything about it. The foyer has mostly emptied when they walk inside, only a few people lingering at the cloakroom. Oscar holds out a hand for Zolf’s coat, and waits for Zolf’s natural nosiness to draw him into figuring out where they are, and why.

He grins when Zolf spots the easel, holding a carefully detailed placard that extols: ‘ _Bestselling author Harrison Campbell reads from his newest novel **The Taming of the Crew** , a boundary-pushing exploration of human relationships. Join us for dinner and an intimate question and answer session, followed by a chance to get your very own personalised copy of this exciting work._

“Oscar…”

“Mm, yes love? Is everything okay?”

Zolf looks up, and there’s such a curious look on his face - a mixture of hope and apprehension that strikes Oscar as so unlike his husband that he almost wants to reconsider this whole affair. Then, Zolf grins, and his eyes are suddenly alive with sparkling good humour.

“How did you keep this quiet, you arse?”

Oscar grins, reaching down to smooth his hand under Zolf’s jaw. “I still know enough people, dearest. There have to be some perks to saving the world.”

Zolf smiles, and it’s all his, all soft and all good. “I love you.”

Oscar enjoys the thrill of that and bends down, stealing himself a kiss. “I love you too. Now let’s get in there before we’re _really_ too late. I don’t know that you’d ever forgive me.”

#

Zolf is oddly quiet throughout the dinner, and the reading and discussion that follows, though he’s leaning forward in his chair and drinking everything in with a fascination that Oscar doesn’t think he’s ever shown quite so openly before, especially not in a room full of people.

He smiles, laughs and sighs when Campbell tells the stories of his tales, the inspiration behind them, recognising each and every novel that’s mentioned. Oscar can’t deny that he finds it interesting too, in a detached way - getting to understand another’s craft always helps him better clarify his own. But there’s more enjoyment to be had in watching Zolf react, so that is what he does.

By the time Campbell leaves the stage and walks across to a small table set aside for the book signing, Oscar expects Zolf to be first in line. Instead, he hesitates, hanging around with Oscar and watching others make their way over instead.

“Zolf?” He asks, forcing down a smile at the little jump that inspires. “Aren’t you going to…?”

“What? Oh. Uh. Yes? I guess?”

He’s nervous. Oh. _Oh_.

Oscar knows better than to point it out, because that’ll just make Zolf feel self-conscious about it. Instead, he curves a solid hand over Zolf’s shoulder and starts to guide him over to the back of the queue. There’s no harm in Oscar joining too, after all. He’s met Campbell before, _many_ years ago, and could easily swing the conversation around to something less awkward if Zolf doesn’t manage to find his voice. But he has faith. Faith that Zolf won’t let his second chance to have a conversation with Campbell go.

They remain at the end of the queue for some time, long enough that he worries Zolf’s legs might start to protest, but there’s a quiet determination that settles itself over Zolf as they wait, and he can only imagine what’s going on in his husband’s head. By the time they get to the table, Campbell looks tired, but ready and engaged with a bright smile for the final of his guests.

Zolf steps forward first, Oscar loitering behind him. “Mr Campbell, I don’t know if you remember me, but—.”

Campbell holds up a hand and frowns, looking at the pair of them with faint recognition.

“Wait...” He says, then a slow smile splits his face. “Zolf Smith and Oscar Wilde? At _my_ book launch?”

He stands, leaning in to shake Zolf’s hand first, then Oscar’s, grinning widely. Oscar can sense the nervous energy flooding out of Zolf’s body at the act, at the welcome, at the familiarity. There’s no need for whatever apology he’d practiced in the queue, no need to rehash any of the awkwardness from that first airship trip, nor to apologise _again_ for not-so-dearly-departed acquaintances.

Instead, Oscar watches quietly as Campbell easily engages Zolf in a conversation about what brought them here. His utter delight at hearing what a fan of his work Zolf is makes a little line of pink form across Zolf’s nose and cheeks.

It’s _adorable_. Oscar loves him so very much.

It’s nice, for once, to not be needed in a conversation. It gives Oscar a chance to watch how Zolf interacts with someone he holds obvious regard for that isn’t Oscar himself, to note the differences in the way he converses, the hesitation over his words, the way he stands straight and doesn’t lean indulgently forward. It makes Oscar feel warm right down to his core.

Only once Zolf’s got his signed copy clutched tight in his hands does Campbell look to Oscar, and then back to Zolf again.

“You know, the pair of you are so elusive these days.” Campbell says, resting his chin on his hands. “I’ve always wondered what exactly brought you together.”

Oscar grins, though it’s not the kindest of smiles he’s ever landed on. “Fishing for inspiration, Harrison?”

“Oh, Mr Wilde can you blame me? You’re the talk of the town!”

“Yes, indeed.” Oscar smiles, trying to keep tightness out of it, because it’s really not Harrison Campbell’s fault that the gossip rags won’t leave them alone. “And that is why we are leaving before the year is out.”

Campbell leans in, sharp eyes noticing the way Zolf steps a little closer to Oscar. “Well, then the least you can do is provide me with a little parting gift. One storyteller to another.”

He looks down at Zolf, inviting his husband to veto this entire thing. It’s _their_ story, after all. And if they don’t both agree to the telling of it then it simply won’t be told. But Zolf smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling in that lovely familiar way. Oscar can tell that he’s tickled by the idea of inspiring one of the novels that he loves so dearly.

“Very well.” Oscar grins. “But might I suggest we take this discussion to the bar?”

#

The rest of the night is spent tucked up in a quiet corner of the building’s drinking establishment, deep in conversation with Harrison Campbell about the most ridiculous of love stories - their own. It’s a treat, really, to look back over the winding path they took to get to one another. To think of all the ridiculous little moments before they really knew what they were feeling.

They know they’ve really got him when he quietly reaches into his bag and pulls out a notebook at the mention of the first headbutt.

“Do you mind if I take notes?”

Zolf laughs, all soft and husky, sipping at his whisky. “Go ahead.”

Campbell is rapt, pencil flying over his paper at every little detail that they recall. Oscar loops his arm around Zolf’s shoulders halfway through the tale of their eighteen months depending on only each other, the necessity of contact only growing once they get to their heavily redacted recounting of the Ursan city.

“Wait, let me make sure I understand. You—.” He says, pointing his pencil at Oscar. “ _Died_. And you—.” He points to Zolf. “Brought him back to life by admitting that you couldn’t continue without him?”

Zolf smiles up at Oscar. “Essentially, yes. And he didn’t remember any of it.”

“Hey, excuse me. I remembered _enough_.”

Campbell slumps heavily back into his chair. “You know, I think if I wrote about this, people would claim it was ‘too unrealistic’.” He taps his pencil against his chin a few times. “This has to be a series. To really do justice to the slow burning romance. Yes, I think… three books? Maybe four.”

“Oh but we’ve not even got to how we plan to retire to a little cottage by the sea, Harrison.”

Campbell claps his hand against the notebook, utterly beaming. “Inspired! The perfect ending!”

“Yeah, we thought so.” Zolf chuckles. “You want us to skim over the saving of the world? I think there’s a few hundred articles about it that you could get the majority of it from. Half of them written by this one.”

“Look, everyone else was getting it wrong.” Oscar sniffs, flinching at the prod of Zolf’s thumb into his ribs. “Sometimes if you want the story told properly, you have to do it yourself.”

Harrison scribbles something at the bottom of a page, a reminder for later, perhaps. Then he smiles, looking at each of them again. “Of course, everyone knows you got married, but no one knows how - or when, even. I don’t suppose you could give me a little hint? Just a little direction.”

Oscar looks across to Zolf with a smile. Memories of the day are never slow to come back to him. The simple, pure happiness that came from standing in front of Azu at the nearest temple, still exhausted, bruised and beaten but _alive_ , with all of their friends around them. One day they’ll do something bigger, with a proper party and fancy outfits - Oscar’s managed to get Zolf’s agreement to that and _won’t_ let him forget it - but in the moment, flush with victory and relief, it was perfect.

“It was only small. We were married by a friend.” Zolf says, eyes not leaving Oscar’s face. “I think you could probably take a little creative license there.”

Campbell snaps the notebook closed and exhales slowly. “Well, gentlemen. I can’t say that’s what I expected when I agreed to do this little event.”

Oscar smiles, slow and charming. “Of course, you understand that if _any_ of what we told you tonight appears in the newspapers over the coming days then there won’t be any more of these _little events_ for you to worry about?”

He can’t deny he enjoys the way Campbell’s face falls at the casual threat, nor the way Zolf stifles a snort (though really, that does _slightly_ undermine the point of it all, they’ll have to have words later). It really won’t do for anyone to get into the habit of underestimating him just because he’s retired.

“Of course Mr Wilde.” Campbell says steadily. “I’ll be sure to get my representatives to contact you with proofs before anything goes to the publisher, as well.”

Oscar leans forward, offering his hand. “That’s very accommodating of you Harrison, thank you very much.”

Campbell shakes his hand, then does the same to Zolf, smiling again. “I have a few books in the pipeline that are due to be published in the coming months. I’d love to get your opinion on them, Zolf.”

It’s impossible not to smile at the way Zolf’s face lights up at that offer, something so simple but so precious to him personally. He snaps his fingers at Oscar without identifying exactly what it is he wants, but luckily Oscar’s quite adept at reading him by now. He reaches into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out a card that Zolf quickly snatches away and hands over.

“You can send anything here. We’ll make sure to forward you our new address once we’re all set up.”

“I look forward to it.” Campbell grins, inclining his head to each of them in turn. “Have a good rest of your evening, gentlemen.”

Zolf finishes his drink with a quick pull and turns towards Oscar with a faint grin tugging at his lips. Oscar reaches out, Zolf leaning easily into his palm as he cups the flushed skin of Zolf’s cheek. Taking a chance, Oscar curls his fingers around the back of Zolf’s head and pulls, watching the amused little quirk of Zolf’s lips that are all too soon pressed to his own.

Oscar feels all warm and floaty when Zolf finally pulls back, lower lip caught between his teeth.

“You’re welcome.” He says quietly, both hearing and feeling the force of the smile that his words inspire.

Zolf winds their fingers together, all tactile in that way that Oscar so adores. “So. Any more surprises up your sleeve?”

“ _Darling_.” He says, all indulgence even as it makes Zolf’s eyes roll. “I wouldn't tell you even if there were.”


End file.
